


Deserving of it

by Saffooooooo



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Internalized Acephobia, Mentions of neuroticism, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saffooooooo/pseuds/Saffooooooo
Summary: Aaron doesn't need to put up a front when it's just him.
Kudos: 17





	Deserving of it

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a heavy ficlet.  
> To any readers, please mind the additional tags, as this ficlet contains potential triggers.  
> It references self-harm, suicidal thoughts, internalised acephobia and mental health issues.  
> Be careful and stay safe.

He hated days like this.

Days where he felt like he couldn't function, days when he felt like he couldn't stay on this earth for another moment longer.

It was days like this when he lay facing the wall, bunching his duvet into his arms and sobbing. At first he used to muffle his mouth to prevent the sounds from carrying, but now he no longer bothered. 

It was everything, all at once. 

He was going to fail his exams, for one. His grades were dropping as fast as Neil could run. Revision was so much harder; he spiralled into a self-hating episode every time he tried to open his textbooks. 

He had gotten diagnosed with anxiety on Friday and his teachers wanted proof that his impacted grades weren't due to his laziness. He'd gone to get a Doctors note but his diagnosis wasn't showing up on their systems. 

They didn't think it was serious enough, he knew. Why else had they not written it down? This was going to be the death of him and no-one deemed it serious enough.

His throat was tight and his head ached. He had balled his hands into fists so that his nails had cut through his palms. There was blood on his sheets. 

He couldn't breathe through the intensity of everything. All he could feel was his tears and the raw rasp of his anger. 

He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. 

"I'm going to fail. I'm going to be unemployed and then I will fucking end it." He whisper-screamed, and then laughed through his sobs. 

There was a broken table somewhere in his room. They used it to hold a glass and a bottle of water for the guests when he used to share rooms with Nicky. The leg was rickety, and if he pulled it off it could be used as an excellent weapon. 

His tears had dried in tracks down his face and had started to itch. He pulled his sleeves up as he swung his legs over the bed and yanked at the table-leg. 

The anger had come back full force. The leg wasn't budging, so he would make it. He picked it up and smashed it against the wall. It splintered down the middle. 

The leg was free, and so were those thoughts he kept in a cage in his head. 

_Who was even Ace? Why the fuck couldn't he just be normal?_

The aim was to stop himself feeling anything but pain. Every time he brought the table leg down the nerves in his arm set on fire, and that was good. 

Eyes closed and head tilted back.

_Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwackthwackthwackthwack._

It radiated the most from his elbow and wrist. This time the tears weren't from self-hate. The pain drowned everything else out.

_What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he love properly?_

He was gulping in air in time with the throbs in his arm. He had lost all feeling in his left, the one holding the table leg. 

He looked down, and there were no bruises. No blood, no broken skin and poking bone. He flung the leg away from him in disgust. He couldn't even break his arm properly. 

He fell back onto his bed and laughed and laughed and laughed until he fell asleep to the sound of his own cries of helplessness. 

In the morning he kept his sleeve down and his scowl fixed. 

No-one suspected anything deeper within his facade of assholery.


End file.
